Fear, Anxiety and Worry
Feeling free of fear, anxiety and worry: I think this makes for a happy person.
You can still feel lonely at times. But there’s nothing to fear or being anxious about or to worry about. If something bad happens, something good is going to follow. (Eventually!) It has to be like this. For there is change all the time. If there wouldn’t be any change, the universe would be very boring!
APOPTOSIS is a normal cell death. It is programmed and happens continuously. (So we have a totally different body today from the one we had two years ago!)
CANCER on the other hand is an abnormal cell division. It is uncontrolled. A neoplastic cell is a cell that is part of a tumour.
I read about this in DEEPAK CHOPRA’S book ‘POWER; FREEDOM and GRACE’. According to DEEPAK, cancer cells ‘have lost the memory of death; they don’t know how to die, and in their quest for immortality, they kill the host body upon which they are dependent for their life.’
‘Death, therefore, is the ticket to life, and death is happening right now in our body-mind. . . . .’ I find this is a very interesting concept. So why are we afraid of change, when in reality change is happening all the time? Indeed, I ask myself, why are so many people forever afraid of change?
Well, what DEEPAK CHOPRA wrote, made me think. I felt I wanted to write about it in a blog, that maybe some bloggers would have an opinion on it and comment on it. I’d love to read your comment!
It’s only three and a half months since I blogged this blog about pictures as Memory Triggers. Since it created a great response at the time, I want to try and reblog it as a Memory Trigger.
Pictures as Memory Triggers
Two brothers, both students at the University of Leipzig (Germany), went out together to see a movie. Two young girls, who wore identical dresses, in a giggly mood followed the students into the cinema and sat down behind them. One of the students was my father Alexander, twenty-one at the time, and one of the girls was my mother Charlotte.
Naturally, the two young students did get to know the two girls. Soon the four of them went on outings together, and before long the two young men even started visiting the girls’ home, where they were well received by the girls’ widowed mother.
Five years later Charlotte and Alexander were married. In the meantime Charlotte’s sister Ilse had been engaged to Alexander’s brother Edmund for a few months. Ilse broke the engagement off and later married well- to -do Adolf S.
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My father died in 1966 (aged 62 years). At the time we could not afford to travel to Germany. The last time I saw him was in 1959 when we left Germany to live in Australia.
In 1977 we were able to travel to Germany for a visit. One of our stops was Augsburg, where my father’s brother Edmund lived with his second wife, Flora. Edmund had been a widower, so had been Flora. When they married they agreed that when they died they would be buried with their first spouses. They thought that this was a common sense thing to do, because they had married each other when they both were in retirement already. As I recall, Edmund would have been seventy-five in 1977. Flora would have been somewhat younger. She was a retired medical practitioner. However she was still energetic enough to do some part-time work doing medical check-ups on men who were about to apply for a job in the Bundeswehr (German Army).
Some of my relatives had warned me, that Flora was proud to always stick to proper etiquette. ‘Don’t forget to buy flowers for her, when you visit,’ we were told. Arriving at Augsburg Station the first thing we did, was to look for a flower-shop. I think we bought carnations. And I think we arrived a little bit late for the visit. They had of course been expecting us. We were very welcomed and I could see, Flora was pleased with the flowers. We noticed they lived in a superb extremely well furnished apartment. They suggested they would first show us a bit the city, then they would take us for lunch; and afternoon coffee would be back at their place.
Uncle Edmund was always just Uncle E for us. He was the one who had been amused when I told him as a nine year old that I was dancing ‘swing’. He was also the one who had been studying in Leipzig together with my father. One of my cousins thinks my father promoted as Dr. rer. pol. But I think this was Uncle E’s title. I’ve always known my father to have the title of Dr. phil. Anyhow I include here again the photos of Alexander and Edmund from the time in Leipzig in about 1925, where both men met my mother Charlotte as well as my mother’s sister Ilse. (My mother was only fourteen at the time!)
Maybe some bloggers would be interested in this Alternative Writing Workshop. I think with this workshop they can reach a wider readership.
Have a look, and Good Luck!
Here is a Blog about Pfifferlinge. I found it by googling the word ‘Pfiffferlinge’. Under images of Pfifferlinge was this picture of Pfifferlinge in the pan.
Our daughter bought us the other day a jar with dried yellow chantarelles imported from Poland. As I mentioned in the previous post she also bought us fresh edible red carnations for a salad.
It reminded me of a salad I had for lunch two years ago in Germany. We took a picture of the salad at the time. Here it is. You can see edible daisies on it together with lettuce, tomatoes and plenty of chantarelles.
It was delicious!
Edible flowers look beautiful as a decoration. Any meal with some edible flowers as decoration would look special. I very much love the red carnations our daughter gave us the other day. We had a good time eating them last night! Thank you, Caroline, for giving us such a special gift.
For me the actual Mother’s day was today, that is in the morning our daughter Nr. 2 was able to spend some time with us before her shift started. This visit was also for Peter’s Birthday, which is coming up this week. On Peter’s birthday we are going to be in Sydney with daughters Nr.1 and 3. Our son, who lives in Melbourne, is staying in touch by phone. But we did see him in Melbourne at Eastertime, when we were celebrating his birthday. There was one Easter bunny left, which appeared in the pictures we took today.
The big bag was full of gifts from our daughter. Peter did bake the cake and bought the flowers!
I found another picture of a tree log cake. Here it is:
Lost in Boronia (third draft)
Uta had started walking back on the cyclepath. She enjoyed the crisp cool air and the sunshine. The surroundings in this reserve area with no cars around were very peaceful. Uta felt all right drifting along, just drifting along. She assumed, since she had come this way before, it would be easy to just go back on the cycleway. She was right on time too. She had checked with her watch before she turned back. Her son had told her to turn back after fifteen minutes. This was exactly what she had done. Everything seemed so perfect on a perfect morning.
The cyclepath suddenly split into two ways. This was definitely not right. This was not the way she had come before. But how could this be? She couldn’t work this out. It was like waking up from a dream. You’re dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. All of a sudden you wake up and realize that you are lost., meaning you are somewhere totally unfamilar to you.
Feeling absolutely lost, not knowing what to do, she just walked on. She remembered she had to go back to MANUKA DRIVE. This was the road she had started from. So where was this Manuka Drive? Best to ask someone. It had to be here somewhere. It can’t all of a sudden disappear. She asked a man who came along walking two large dogs. ‘Can you tell me, please, where MANUKA DRIVE is?’ The man said he had no idea where this road was.
Then a lady appeared on the cyclepath. She was running at what seemed a moderate pace. Uta dared to interrupt the lady’s jogging by asking her for directions to Manuka Drive. Luckily the lady knew exactly where Manuka Drive was. It turned out, Uta had gone too far along the cycleway. Turning back the way the lady had told her to, Manuka Drive soon was right in front of her. What a relief, to find some familiar sourroundings again, she thought. Gradually it dawned on her that she must have crossed Manuka Drive before without paying attention to it because the cyclepath went via an underpass to the other side of the road.